STARBURNS ON MY FINGERS, Nawaziest Ul Bushra
I felt a beat
on my eyelids closed
A knocking of a tearing pupil
that fell to the skipped beat
of the heart's endeavour
The dream I craved
The moment I embraced
The vision I traced
On the palming crease
Of my shaken pace
That undid my breath
To its primal grace
I called upon my tongue
The taste of colour
That marked my soul
Upon this trail
The sparrow’s fail
The swan’s embrace
And the willows craze
In the winds of space
It furled my soul
To a spoken lore
of a lionesses’ roar
in a beating thunder
it summoned the hunger
of a fractured heart
a silenced mark
that ran its blood
on walks of old
that inked the space
and
drenched my throat
in the blood of my soul
gulped the tug of
a remembrance
upon my palming crease
of my untold lore
escaped
between the tug of your
breath
from one to the other
it called the roar
that spoke the tale
That had scorched its name
and unfolded the tongue
upon the folded lores
that laid on stones
So you walk
The paceful walk
Of a lion’s hunt
that
In a blinking breath
You live
A thousand deaths
Perhaps the flutter
would touch your soul
of the swan’s embrace
at my brace
a gulp of time
in your throat
In the cradle of the willow
you’ll find the sigh
it took my cry
upon the dew drop
at the dawn's stop
a morning call
that left a time
on my simple rhyme
In your wondering
you may find my pondering
the ache I traced on my
wounded space
you might find in a broken branch
or a root of tree
crawling up the earthen plain
or a sparrow's call
on a moment’s fall
or the rain's breath
on your flushed cheek
a tingle on your soul
might speak to you
of a painful cry
a twinkled smile
the water’s course
drinking away the world’s coarse
upon my soul
the drenched melody
that tugged on my drumming
a longing
with a fragrance of my rain
and the glow of the sun's mane
Like that of the Sun's green
lost in the ocean's plea
I spoke my trail
that unearthed its mark
on my dancing fingers
in their hopeful counting
& upon an eyelid closed
Trace your fingers
Upon the exhaled breath
and smell the fire
that burnt my fingers
in their tracing craze
of the stars of old
as I carved my memory
and tracked the trail